False Endings
by mid-sweettalk
Summary: Just because an ending's happy, doesn't make it true. AU Post-Apocalyptic Demena F/F
1. Chapter 1

**Well, heeey there errybody! So here's another Demena, one that I started posting on LJ. If you get too impatient, the first four chapters are up there (link in my bio, i _think_ lol). Or you can just read here and REVIEW, please, because it means the world to me when you do! **

**So this is a semi-futuristic AU (?). I guess it would be more appropriate to say Post-Apocalyptic, because that's basically it. Some of the ages have been altered to my liking. I don't own Demi or Selena or Taylor or Taylor (you'll see lol) or Braison. But I own all the little kids and the plot! *thumbs up, cheesy grin* **

**Entyways, so here's the prologue, hope you enjoy!**

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"Demi, can you tell us a bedtime story?"

You look up from the bed you were making, caught lost in your thoughts once more. The girl's eyes are gray, darker now in the dim light. Her short hair, covered halfway by her black skullcap, is tangled and slightly frizzy. She hasn't brushed it yet. Her blanket is draped over her shoulders; one hand clutches it, the other is inching towards her mouth, thumb extended. She hasn't washed her face either; dirt is smudged on her cheeks from earlier today.

You don't say anything for a while as her question registers in your muddled mind. Then you raise an eyebrow. "It's late," you say flatly.

The girl's expression doesn't change, but she pushes her free hand towards you, pinky finger out. "I'll make my bed tomorrow without complaining. Promise," she says just as tonelessly. You look on for a few more moments before hooking your pinky with hers.

Keeping your fingers together, she walks you to the center of the floor. You sit down, legs crossed, and she sits in front of you in the same way.

"Come on," you call out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "One story. Then bed. Come on, everyone."

They come quickly, gathering around you to make a circle. Thirteen of them. You look around at each of their faces, catching each of their gazes. You speak quietly to make them listen.

The beginning you give them is truthful: a girl was separated from her parents and siblings.

The middle you give them is also true: the girl wandered alone for years, trying to survive.

The ending you give them is a happy one: the girl found her family and lived happily ever after.

But just because an ending's happy, doesn't mean it's true.

"Good, everyone?" you say once the story's done. They all have smiles on their faces, none of them exactly tired. "Good," you say. "Now off to bed. Night, everyone."

The girl on your right starts it off as she does every night like this. She stands and presses her lips to your cheek before walking away with a "Night, Demi." The others follow in a line, each one repeating the two words, except for one, and then they all are in bed. This is a ritual they started; you tried to make them stop at first, but you gave up.

You stand, walk back to your bed, and finish making it. You sit on top of the blanket and bring your bag over to you. You pull out the shotgun, make sure it's loaded, but not cocked, and place it on its side by your bed. You take your .22 and close your bag. The silver pistol is set beside you, your bag placed over it.

"Braison," you call, looking across the room for the boy.

"Got it," he calls, holding his similar pistol up for you to see before placing it under his bag as well. Your eyes meet, and you send that silent message to him. He nods, and then you find yourself lost in the emptiness of space yet again, as he lays down and your line of sight is clear. "Night, Demi," he says again, this time in a near whisper.

It takes you more than a few moments to pull yourself from that emptiness. You blink suddenly as something wet trails down your cheek. You glance around once more, and once you see they are all asleep, you lay down yourself, your face towards the small fire you had all gathered around earlier. You stare into the flames, your thoughts lost in the bright dance, until you drift into that half-asleep state you're in every night. One hand under your bag. Both hands on a gun.

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**So? Like it so far? (I hope so...) PLEASE REVIEW, it really does mean the world to me when you do. I'll put up the next chapter soon, maybe in a week or so. I'm trying to get back in the groove of writing this fic, cuz I have LJ hangin lol. Umm any questions, message me or find me on twitter (breathewithyou) or LJ (breathe_it_in94). Annnnd yeah, that's it! Luv y'all!**


	2. NotSoOrdinary Day

**Okay, y'all, here's the first chapter of False Endings :) hope y'all enjoy!**

**It would mean the world to me if y'all reviewed! Please? Thank you!**

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Before your eyes even open, you start panicking. You can tell the sun is out through your eyelids, and the sun's not supposed to be up before you are. Sun means they wake up, and though Braison is usually good at keeping track of them, you know he won't wake you if one of them goes missing, preferring to find the runaway before you even know about it. You don't like taking chances.

You sit up. The room has been cleared, but the fire wasn't put out either correctly or all the way, the former probably causing the latter. You pick up a handful of dirt from the ground and cover the smoldering ashes with it, the embers dying out.

You turn and start packing up your bed, holstering your guns. You were lucky to find this place, you think. It had been getting dark, and it's not smart at all to walk at night, especially with the cargo you have. But then you found a nuclear facility, or at least, that's what comes to mind when you look at it. Shelter from all sides, that crack in the side letting you all enter, the lack of a ceiling showing you the sky. You'd set up the fire in the middle and had everyone set up their "beds" around it.

You finish packing up now, make sure no one left anything behind, and walk back outside through the crack in the wall.

Some of the kids are running around. You catch a little one as she runs past you. You look at her with a raised eyebrow, and her eyes widen as she gets the message. Her gaze drops guiltily, and you place her back on the ground.

This interaction catches everyone's attention, and they are all looking to you for instruction. You look around and mentally do a headcount. Thirteen. Good.

"Alright, y'all, get your stuff. We've got a long day." As they all run to their respective packs and blankets, you see him holding the youngest. "Braison," you call out. "Here. Now. Give Doran to Alexi."

He knows he screwed up; you can tell by the look on his face. When he reaches you, you call over his shoulder, "Alexi, you're in charge for a few minutes." You nod your head towards the plant and start walking. You don't have to check behind you; you know he's following.

Once you're behind the building and out of sight of the others, you turn back to him, whacking the side of his head-hard-before he's even stopped walking. "Ow!" He flinches away, tenderly rubbing his ear. "Demi, what-"

"What the hell were you thinking, Braison? _Jodido idiota_, letting them run around like that. What if one of them ran off? You're not even supposed to leave the shelter unless I'm with you, you know that. Care to explain what sort of fucking nonsense was running through that damn mind of yours?" You know you're being harsh, but he needs to learn. "You're the oldest besides me, Braison. _Tienes catorce_, Braison. _Fourteen_. When I'm not around, you're supposed to be taking care of them, not being _descuidado_. _So fucking _careless." You're ranting now, but it doesn't matter, not after what happened yesterday. "Speaking of, why the hell didn't you wake me up? You know damn well I don't like y'all by yourselves in daylight. Care to explain _qué demonios_ is wrong with your brain this morning?" Slipping in and out of Spanish; you only do it when you're mindlessly pissed off.

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at the ground. His answer is grumbled out, "You said we're not supposed to curse-"

"I'm the oldest and in charge here, Braison. I'll _fucking _curse whenever the hell I want to. When _you're _fucking eighteen, you can curse to me. Now explain."

He sighs, and his angry expression gives way to a pleading one, his arms extended out by his sides as he spoke his piece. "Well, like you said-"

"Get that fucking look off your face. No begging, or 'pleases,' or whatever. You think _los caníbales _will look at your fucking tears and not kill you? You damn well know better."

His face falls. "Fine." His arms drop back down, and he talks normally. "You were asleep, and I didn't want them to wake you. You needed your rest, no matter how much you deny it. With _los chicos malos_ chasing after us yesterday, you needed your sleep. It was too stressful. I was doing you a favor."

You study him for a moment, your fingers tapping on your crossed arms. "You shouldn't have done it," you say finally, relenting a little. He seems to hear the unspoken thanks/apology in your words, so you continue. "But you still let them run around free. You make all the beds tonight and tomorrow morning." You walk past him, ignoring his complaints behind you as you meet back up with the others.

Alexi is standing among the others, her arms around Doran. The others are seated around her, playing some sort of vocal game. Ver, _why couldn't he have had them do this? _you think.

On your way to the group, you pick up your dropped bag. As you reach them, a chorus of "morning, Demi's" ring out. "Morning," you say as you sit before them, opening the bag. "Places," you say, and they all scramble up. "We'll have to eat on the way, y'all; we've lost a lot of daylight."

You lay the food out on your blanket before putting half of it away for dinner. You look up at Alexi as you say, "Youngest first."

She sets Doran down, and he walks over to you. "Cameron," you call, and the boy walks beside you. You turn your gaze back to Doran as you speak. "You're with Cameron," you say, and Doran's gaze moves to Cameron's hands above your head. "One guy points a knife at you. Answer." As Cameron finishes translating, Doran makes the sign with his hands that you know means "run". You hand him his breakfast.

"Leto," you turn to a little girl just older than Doran, and she walks up. You look into her bright gray eyes as you modify the question. "You instead of Doran; the guy's got a gun."

"Fight," she answers almost immediately. You stand up.

"Show me," you say, holding your hands out like a gun, pointed down at her head.

Cameron calls out, "Hey!" and you turn to look at him. Leto's leg swings up in a circle, knocking the "gun" to the side. Cameron kicks you behind the knees, and you collapse onto them. Leto grabs your hair and forces your head down, stopping her knee an inch from your nose. You nod, she releases your hair, and you hand both her and Cameron their food.

"Lexa; you're by yourself; a group of strong men; you're the only one with a weapon."

"Lucky, a little girl asking for help from the side of the road. First thing you do?"

"Aki, a tall lady, my age, weapons on her back; says she just wants to talk, that she's not gonna hurt you."

"Jooey."

"Terrell."

"Tori."

"Janay."

"Brooke."

"Alexi."

"Braison."

And then you take half of what's left, splitting the rest of your portion with Doran and Leto.

You pick up your bag, strapping it across your back, and wait for them to do the same. You take Leto's hand, giving Doran to Braison, who holds him on his hip while holding Cameron's hand, incase Doran tries to talk. Alexi holds Lexa's hand, and Brooke gathers the others together. "_Vamos_," and you start walking.

You really wish Braison hadn't decided to let you sleep in; the sun is already high in the sky, wearing down on your already-tanned skin. When you look down and see Leto squinting in the brightness, you take your hat from its place around your neck and place it on her head, shading her eyes. When you see she's about to turn to smile up at you, you quickly face forward again. You don't want to disappoint her with your nonexistent smile.

Every few minutes, you give the four youngest a sip from your canteen. Doran especially; he's only four, and was already severely malnourished when you found him last year; his body is more frail than the other little ones'. You make sure Brooke, Alexi, and Braison are keeping the seven-, eight-, and nine-year-olds hydrated also, but you don't have to worry about them wasting water. They know better.

The sun is far past its midpoint in the sky. You won't get much ground covered today. Frustration flashes inside of you, and you have to bite back the angry comments rising in your throat. Braison may have been an _idiota _that morning, but he doesn't deserve any more angry words from you.

There's a sign by the road. It's bent and rusted, the white words almost completely blended in with the faded-green background, but you can tell it used to say there's a town twenty miles ahead. No way you'll make it there before dark.

You see it out of the corner of your eye. "_Alto_," you hiss, and they all stop walking. You turn to look.

Vultures are circling in the air. You look to the ground under them. An animal, you can't tell what from this distance, is dead. Movement catches your eye, and you turn your gaze to the cat-a rare find since Then-lurking around, slowly walking up to the dead animal.

"Janay," you whisper, "_prisa_."

She takes her bow from around her shoulders and has an arrow aimed in less than a second. You glance up as a vulture starts to descend. The cat stops and slowly turns, readying to run, afraid of the bird. "Janay," you say urgently, and the string of the bow snaps with the release of the arrow.

The younger kids cheer as the cat falls over, the arrow sticking up from its side.

You take a rucksack from your bag and hand it to Terrell, who runs off with it. He comes back out of breath, the sweat glistening on his naturally mahogany skin, but with a large smile on his face as he hands the rucksack to Braison and the cleaned arrow to Janay. Tori, his twin sister, smiles and squeezes his hand as he rejoins the group.

You turn to Janay, who has slung her bow back across her body and placed her arrow back in its quiver. Even after three years, you're still surprised that a nine-year-old can have such perfect aim. You put a hand on her shoulder, and she turns to you. Your hand slides up her neck to cup her cheek, and you gently push a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes shine as you say, "Great job, _cariño_. Thanks to you, we get to be full tonight."

"_Cariño_?" she asks. "I've never heard you say that before." You nod your head, bending down to her level.

"It can mean a lot of nice things, but I say it means… sweetie."

Her grin widens, and your heart unwillingly swells. You lean back up and press your lips firmly against her forehead before standing up straight. You put your arm over her shoulder and take Leto's hand again. Janay wraps her arm around your hips, just below the bag on your back, and snuggles into your side.

You know you should stop her; you should push her away. She can't get used to being close to you. But no one has hugged you, held you, like this in years, and for a moment, you feel… _loved_. And it doesn't hurt this time.

"_¡Mamá!_" a small, but loud, voice calls from behind you, and you freeze momentarily. Then you're turning quickly and crouching down to Doran's level-Braison hadn't picked him up again.

"No," you say firmly, looking him in the eyes as you bring your index, middle finger, and thumb together repeatedly in front of his face. "No, no, no… not _Mamá_," you sign for "mother". "I'm Demi." You point to yourself and spell your name frantically. "_Demi_. Look at me," you grab his jaw and tap your mouth. "Demi. Not _Mamá."_

You're close to tears as you lean out of his face, still crouched down. Someone pulls on your shirt, and you turn quickly, suddenly. But it's just Aki, who you've just scared to death. Good. She needs to learn to handle fear. But you sigh and take her hand, rubbing your thumb over the back of it softly.

"Mama," he says again, without the accent, and you turn back slowly.

Doran is kneeling on the ground, his palms flat against the dirt. He looks at you pointedly before bringing a hand up and signing.

"Cam-"

"Feel," Cameron says before you can even get his name out. You place your hands on the ground, and Doran signs again. "Fast." You feel your face scrunch up in confusion. "Move. F-R-O-O-M. Froom?"

"Vroom!" Lucky calls out. "He means vroom! There's a car coming!"

You look up quickly and see it now. In the distance, but it's getting closer, clouds of dirt spewing up behind it. You stand up and look around you quickly. Only the muggers and "leaders" have cars.

"Nowhere to hide," Braison says darkly, and you sadly realize he's right.

You turn quickly, ushering the group into walking again. _Maybe_, you think, _if they see we're no threat, they'll just pass us by_. But you know this is just wishful thinking.

Brooke walks up next to you. "It's a van. What do we do?"

You ponder that. As the sounds of the van's engines get closer, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. "Get ready to fight," you say clearly for all twelve to hear. "But don't raise a fist until I say so, got that?" You turn to Cameron as he finishes signing to Doran, and they both nod.

You stop when the van does, squeezing Leto's hand once before letting go. You'll die before you let one of these kids go.


End file.
